Far Too Young To Die
by Xilverknight
Summary: After a freak accident that left a young high school student—Ahkim Adams—scarred for life...The legendary Batman swoops in and takes him under his wing, ready to train the young boy in the art of fighting crime. Follow young Ahkim as we go through the story of how he went from a lost street thug, to a bad-ass crime fighter!
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN ANY UNORIGINAL CONTENT. BATMAN WAS CREATED BY BOB KANE, AND BELONGS TO DETECTIVE COMICS INC. THE ONLY CONTENT I CLAIM ARE THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS THAT ARE USED THROUGHOUT THE STORY.**_

 _Far Too Young To Die_

 _Prologue_

Bruce was standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom in Wayne Manor, watching the boy as he slept. He was worried that he'd have nightmares, but Bruce wouldn't let him know that.

 _He doesn't look like a bad kid…_ Bruce thought.

Ahkim looked like a regular kid in high school aside from the way he was dressed. His clothes were raggedy and baggy; some of his shirt was ripped. It wasn't noticeable, but if you were looking for it - you found it.

Ahkim had a dark chocolate skin color with a small, nappy—it was very apparent that he didn't have any way of taking care of his hygiene—afro. His hair was jet black, and from what Bruce had seen earlier, his eyes were the color of caramel chocolate. His attire consisted of graphic tees—the current one he was wearing was from a popular TV show about a super-human spider that saved people's lives. The shirt showed a man in a costume that looked like a black widow, and he was titled, "Man-spider."

Looking at Ahkim, Bruce could tell that he didn't have a decent home life. Even still, looking at someone and judging their home life – it's not something you do. Bruce needed proof. He found it, and he wish it was just some bad dream.

Bruce fought crime, and there were a lot of things he absolutely despised seeing. Underneath rape and killing, was the abuse of a child. That's why the kid was in the guest bedroom – child abuse. It wasn't something Bruce was looking forward to finding, but it was there nonetheless.

Sighing, he walked to the den area, grabbing a shot glass. "Old Rip Van Winkle" he said silently to himself as he poured a little bit of the vintage whiskey into his glass. He looked towards the window, and took a sip of it letting out a slight, "Ahh." as the burn of the liquor hit his chest.

 _This kid…I don't know what to do with him._

He looked towards the family grave outside where his parents lie. He set his glass on the sill of the window and stared at the tombstones.

 _He just wants a family, and that's why he turned to gangbanging._

Ahkim Adams wasn't a bad kid. In fact, he was one of the most well behaved kids in the school at Gotham High. Straight A's, very few bad marks—the marks he made were rarely his fault, and usually it was because he was hanging around the wrong crowd.

All his life, Ahkim just wanted to fit in; make friends. His home life was terrible. He took to hanging out past curfew with people he thought would protect him in exchange for doing their homework, or other menial tasks that required a more intelligent person to perform. He didn't want to go home. Not to his father.

His father was a tyrant, to put it lightly. He would come home every other night reeking of alcohol and marijuana. Ahkim didn't go to school because he was forced, but because he didn't want to be at the home anymore. Every wall, every corner, every crevice; they all held vicious and vivid memories of blood splattered on them.

His father had a drug problem. Marijuana wasn't the only thing coursing through his system. Heroine, Meth, Spice—you name it - Deonté Adams has had it through his system. Deonté Adams was in a gang - that is where Ahkim got the idea from. Gangsters or GD's as they are known through the series of Ghettos in Gotham, were a longtime rival of the Bloods.

Ever since he found out about gangs he was interested. He wanted to know why his father would join; he wanted to know if they could help him in any way.

After asking around the school, and almost getting threatened to be jumped—several times—after school in the streets, Ahkim had finally found the man he was looking for – Tyrell Fisher.

Tyrell was a big name around the high school. Despite the fact that he was 28 years old, he hung around most of the high school kids. He bought them cigarettes and alcohol, got them into parties, and even hardcore street drugs. Tyrell was bad news to any sensible person, but Ahkim was in a state of desperation.

 _Maybe if I can get Tyrell to like me, I'll have a family like I want._ He thought.

What Ahkim didn't know - being in a gang wasn't all it was hyped up to be. To be in a gang - it meant to hurt innocent people; it meant stealing, and cheating, and lying. Of course no one was going to tell him this—why would they? That would drive people away; not bring them in.

So what drew Ahkim in? The promise of getting away from his father and the vivid memories of blood-stained walls. Getting away from his mother who abused him because she couldn't stand up to her husband. She didn't want to leave; she couldn't.

She had nowhere to go. Her dad had thrown her out; her mother was killed when she was in her early 20s. Brothers and sisters didn't have room, friends didn't want the imposition. She was alone and had no one to help. Deonté had taken every cent from his paycheck to buy drugs and prostitutes, leaving her to use all her money to pay bills and groceries.

Many nights they went without running water, or even electricity. Home wasn't home to Ahkim. It was a nightmare. He wanted to wake up and escape; to leave and never come back.

Bruce had looked towards the grandfather clock that took up space in the den. It was a quarter 'til midnight, the only light in the room was the overbearing shadow of the moon seeping through the glass.

As he looked at the old antique clock, visions of what had transpired today went through his mind. He still had second thoughts about the kid, but he figured they would all seep away when everything had ironed out.

This whole situation was a ticking time bomb, and Bruce was being careful not to accidentally set it off.

His only question was…

 _Is this the right choice?_

-;-

 _ **A/N; Hey, guys. This is the first story that I'm posting. This is the prologue to Far Too Young To Die – an original Batman story that I came up with. I hope you guys enjoy reading it, and if you feel the need to give constructive criticism about anything, please leave a review and I'll work on changing that! Enjoy~**_

 _ **-Master of the Muses.**_


	2. Chapter 1

_**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN ANY UNORIGINAL CONTENT. BATMAN WAS CREATED BY BOB KANE, AND BELONGS TO DETECTIVE COMICS INC. THE ONLY CONTENT I CLAIM ARE THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS THAT ARE USED THROUGHT THE STORY.**_

 _ **WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS GANG VIOLENCE, DRUGS AND ALCOHOL, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC SCENES, AND LANGUAGE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.**_

 _Far Too Young To Die_

 _Chapter 1_

The cool winter's air that was spreading throughout the city was enough to make someone feel as if it were alive, stabbing one maliciously with the pain of a thousand, tiny needles. Bruce was arriving at the GCPD building to talk to the commissioner.

Gotham had not really been known for gangs outside of the mafia, so the sudden pop up of Gangsters, Crips and Bloods had been alarming to the Gotham City Police Department commissioner—Jim Gordon.

"Hey, Batman." Jim started. "I'm calling you today because we've been getting reports—"

"Of gang brutality and violence. I know." Batman stated coldly. "I've been hearing several reports of gangs popping up throughout the slums of Gotham."

"What are we going to do about it? I've been reading up on the files that the detectives have put together and it just seems like delinquency." Jim took out his cigarette case and pulled out a cigar, putting it into his mouth and lighting it with a match. "I mean," He stated as the smoke had escaped from his lips. "All they're doing is beating the crap outta people to let them join this gang. Who would want to get beat up just to join a gang?"

"Either someone very stupid, or someone very desperate." Bruce said. "I've preset the BatComputer to target people known to take part in gang activity. I'm looking for someone to bring in for questioning. Maybe if we get a recruiter for any of these gangs, we'll be able to find the information we need."

"Well," Jim started, turning away from Batman to stare over the city from atop the building, "Just let me know if you want to look over the files. I'll be glad to let you look over whatever you—" Jim turned around to find he was talking to nothing but air. "Every time..." Jim smiled and laughed as he took another puff of his cigar, turning off the bat signal. "Maybe one day, we'll be able to have a conversation without him disappearing before it ends." Jim walked over to the door that leads down into the GCPD. He sighed, opening the door, stepping in, and shutting out the malicious winter air.

* * *

Batman was sitting atop an old building in the slums of Gotham – Crime Alley. Readying himself for the night of investigating, he had accessed the little button on the temple of his cowl, pulling up an augmented reality HUD. It was created by Lucius Fox at the Wayne Industries tech department. It was a very useful gadget, allowing him to access computer databases in front of his eyes while on a patrol.

After scanning the area of Crime Ally—jumping from building to building—the BatComputer had recognized a notorious gang member—Tyrell Fisher—a local Blood who had been in the gang since he was a little boy. Tyrell was now 28 years old, and he had been robbing stores and other places for the past week or so. The cops had a warrant for his arrest but they could never catch him. He was too elusive; too cunning.

Tyrell had a group of other people walking behind him. Only the imagination could guess what they were up to. Bruce decided to follow them, wondering what they were going to do. He ran along the roofs of the buildings, making sure not to be seen, but he keep them in his line of sight. Eventually they came to an abandoned house and Tyrell and his entourage had followed him in.

Batman jumped off of the building, gliding to the side of the house, ducking at a nearby window. He once again used the HUD to scan the room. There were a total of 6 people in the house; they ranged in ages; the outlier being only 15. Everyone else was around the 20-25 age range, the little kid and Tyrell being the only exceptions.

"Bring her out."

Tyrell barked at one of the men, and shortly after, a woman was dragged out of the back room, her hands bound with rope and a burlap sack covering her head. She was screaming.

"Let me go, you mad men! Let me go!"

Suddenly, the man dragging her out had hit her on the head with his fist, "Shut up!" She fell to the floor, crying hysterically. The youngest boy looked at the woman on the ground as she lay there, yelling and pleading.

"Please don't kill me! I have a kid... I have a kid! Do you not have a family?! Do you not understand what it's like?!"

The man that had hit her on the head had now kicked her in the stomach. "I said BE QUIET!" the man yelled.

"So, you want to be in Blood, huh, Ahkim?" Tyrell said, looking at the little boy.

"Yeah, I do. I know I'm perfect gang material. Plus, it'd be nice to have a family that cares for me…" The last sentence was spoken in a decrescendo as he dropped his eyesight to his shoes.

Tyrell had handed Ahkim the gun, "Shoot this woman in the head, and you can be in our gang."

Ahkim had looked at Tyrell, holding the gun in his hand. "But…she said she had a kid…" he said as he looked up from his shoes, and locked his eyesight with Tyrell's.

"She's lying. She just wants to get out of this, so she came up with an excuse. She's actually a bad guy. She's responsible for the break-ins at the convenient stores around town. She's stolen a lot of money, kid. You'd be doing the town a favor if you got rid of her."

"Okay..." He said, pointing the gun at the woman's head, readying his index finger to pull the trigger. _BAM_ the sound of the hammer hitting the barrel had sounded throughout the neighborhood.

* * *

Batman had readied his batarangs, jumping through the window. As the window shattered at his body forcefully pushing against its surface, everyone inside became alarmed, and looked towards the window, pulling out their guns. They were ready to shoot on sight, but luckily they didn't see him.

Batman was a master at hiding and becoming one with the shadows. He had thrown a batarang at one of the thugs, knocking the gun out of his hand. When the gun had hit the ground… _BAM,_ the sound of a gun firing had rung through Batman's ear.

Batman quickly took out the remaining three thugs, with swift and precise movements, knocking them off their feet. As the last thug's body hit the floor with a thud, he ran to the back room where the woman was held. Tyrell was standing over the body that lay there, lifeless like a ragdoll. He took the burlap sack off of the woman's head, and revealed her face to be Taquita Adams—Ahkim Adams' mother.

Tears had visibly penetrated Ahkim's eyes as he realized that the person he just killed was his mother.

"…Why did…why did you make me kill my mom?!" Ahkim yelled, as he pointed the gun at Tyrell. Batman took a batarang and threw it at the gun, making sure to hit his mark. Success. It hit the gun out of Ahkim's hand, knocking it to the ground with a clank. Tyrell had then pulled out his gun, and went to shoot the little boy that had fallen to his knees crying. Batman lunged at him and grabbed his arm, breaking it with great force. He shoved him to the ground and used his elbow to hit Tyrell's neck, knocking him unconscious.

The sight of his mother who lay there dead before him was a mind-breaking sight. Her head had a hole in it, blood splattered all over her turquoise dress that she had worn to work that day. It was unbearable. Ahkim couldn't take it anymore—the thought that he had killed his mother was driving him to the brink of insanity.

"I…I hated my mom…" He said as he reached for the gun. "But…but…I…I killed her…I didn't want her to…die…I…I was going to kill someone that could have been someone else's mom, and instead I…killed my mom…" As the last three words left his lips, he put the gun in his mouth as tears streamed down his face.

"Hey, you don't want to do that." Bruce said, as he had walked to the little boy, kneeling beside him. He took the gun from Ahkim, tossing it to the side.

"It's all going to be okay." Those words left his mouth as he took the kid into an embrace, rocking him back and forth for comfort as he cried hysterically into Batman's suit. "What's your name, son?" He asked, waiting for his reply.

It came from his mouth through the sobs, but just barely. "A-….Ahkim Adams…I'm so sorry…I…"

Batman continued to shh him, comforting him with the embrace. "It's okay, Ahkim. It's okay."

Batman had tied and bound the thugs' hands together, leaving them all roped up. He called the Commissioner on the phone, letting him know about the mess in Crime Alley. He had lost my parents in Crime Alley, and now Ahkim lost his mother. "I'm going to take you home, Ahk-." He started before I was cut off.

"NO! No… I'm not… I'm not going home. I can't face my family anymore…I want…I want you to train me. I want to be strong and tough so I can fight bad people like you do. I want to make sure that no other kid has to go through what I just went through…Please, sir…train me…help me."

Batman looked at the boy; a fire had sparked in his eyes. "No." He stated coldly to the boy. "I don't take in apprentices. You're going to go home, son, and you're going to go to school, and be a good kid. That's all I ask of you."

"Please, Batman! Please! You can't bring me home to _him_!" Ahkim pleaded.

"Him?" Batman asked, looking at the kid.

"My…My dad. He's a horrible person! You have to believe me!"

"Ahkim, I'm sure your father isn't that bad. I'm going to take you home. Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling! You can't make me!"

"Suit yourself." Batman had accessed his communicator in ear. "Alfred. Pull up Ahkim Adams' school records. I need you to get me an address."

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred replied. A minute passed until Alfred spoke again. "A one Ahkim Adams lives in Crime Alley, sir. On 14th street, apartment number 247."

"Thanks, Alfred." Batman looked at Ahkim. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

Ahkim started crying again, "Why won't you listen to me…?"

Batman had ignored the kid's crying and pleading. He thought everything would be better when the kid were returned home. But it wasn't.

* * *

 _Knock, knock._ The sound of Batman's fist had hit the door of the Adams' family apartment.

"Hold on a fuckin' minute!" a voice shouted from behind the door.

The door had finally opened after half a minute to reveal Deonté Adams. Deonté had on a dirty tank top that had stains all over it. The house was a mess and it reeked of countless drugs. The sight of Batman didn't scare him. In fact, the moment that he saw Ahkim hiding behind Batman, he had grabbed the boy by his neck and yanked him into the house, throwing him into the coffee table.

"I'm so fuckin' sorry that my ki-" _pow._

Batman had punched Deonté in his face, knocking him into the house.

"He's not your kid anymore, Mr. Adams." He said as he tied up Deonté and called Gordon, letting him know about the huge amount of illegal drugs that was stored within the house. He had went beside Ahkim who lied in the shattered remains of the coffee table.

"I'm so sorry, Ahkim." He said as he helped him to his feet.

"I'm all right. I'm used to this. I can't tell you how many coffee tables I've been throw into already." He said as he tried to chuckle off the pain.

"You're coming with me." Batman said, as he walked out of the house, Ahkim following closely behind.

"Where are we going, sir?" Ahkim asked, looking at the back of Batman, staring in awe at him.

"We're going to go train. But know this." Batman turned around and kneeled in front of the kid, placing both hands on his shoulders. "No killing. That is rule number one. We fight crime for justice and to keep the people of Gotham safe. We don't kill because it only warrants more fear and hatred. Justice is what we fight for, Ahkim. We fight not because we have to, but because we have been at the lowest we can possibly imagine, and when life pushed us down – we got right back up to fight back. Do you understand?"

Ahkim had nodded his head as Batman had stood up. "Yes, sir, I understand."

"Good." He said as he had called in the Batmobile, and hopped in along with Ahkim, driving towards Wayne Manor. 

_**A/N; Okay, guys Chapter 1 is officially done. Just like the last entry, please let me know if you don't like anything, and leave it in a review. Please – constructive criticism only. I'm open to any suggestions and criticism to help better myself as a writer, and make the reading experience more enjoyable for you guys, the readers. Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy chapter one!**_


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